The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
by ShotgunOpera
Summary: Mrs. Curtis enjoys Christmas Eve with her boys. This is set right before the accident.


**Disclaimer:** None of this belongs to me, it all belongs to Mrs. Hinton. I don't make any money off of it, I just have fun. I also don't own the one song parody that I put in here, the "We Three Kings" one. RileysMomma found it at christmascarnivals dot com, and it was too funny to not put in here. The other two parodies, I did, so I'm sorry if they're kinda lame. I also don't own the song "It's the most wonderful time of the year" which I borrowed for the title and used for later in the fic. From my research, as far as I can see, it belongs to Eddie Pola and George Wyle.

A/N: RileysMomma, this is for you, my promised Christmas fic. :) Thank you for beta reading it for me, I don't know what I'd do without you! (no, actually I do know … I'd be moping :P )

* * *

I let out a frustrated breath as I pushed my hair out of my face with the back of my hand. My forehead was itchy, but my fingers were covered in cookie dough. The boys had all been begging me to make my special sugar cookies, and at this time of the year, I couldn't help but indulge them.

The front door opened with a bang, signaling that Darrel and Darry were home from their annual father/son Christmas tree hunt. I smiled as he came into the kitchen and planted a kiss on my cheek. "Hello, Mrs. Curtis," he said with a teasing lilt to his voice.

I smiled at him. "Hello to you, too, Mr. Curtis." I raised an eyebrow – a trick that I had taught Two-Bit a long time ago – and asked, "Are those your dirty boots you're wearing in my nice, clean kitchen?"

Darrel gave a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Maggie," he apologized as he quickly shucked them off and went to set them by the door.

Looking at the slushy mess on the floor, I sighed and shook my head. I couldn't remember how many times I had told him that if his shoes were muddy or slushy or otherwise dirty, to take them off at the front door. Darrel was too absent-minded to remember this very often, though, and he usually ended up moseying through most of the house before I caught him.

He sauntered back in with a twinkle in his eye and I gave him a sweet smile before remarking, "You know, that mess doesn't clean itself up …"

He chuckled as he reached for the mop. "Don't worry, I got this covered."

"You better!" I told him jokingly as I finished spooning off portions of cookie dough onto the baking sheet in front of me. The ones in the oven were probably only about half-done, so I set the pan aside and wiped off my hands with a towel so I could check the pot sitting on the stove. I'd had beef stew going, and it would only be a few more minutes until it was done. In this family, beef stew was a favorite on Christmas Eve, and since it was pretty simple to make, I was more than happy to oblige.

Ponyboy wandered into the kitchen, likely following his nose. He grinned as he saw I was making the cookies, and went to grab for one sitting on the cooling rack. I smacked his hand away as I said, "Good Lord, Ponyboy Michael, can't you let the cookies sit for a little while?"

"Aw, but Mamma …"

"Don't you 'but Mamma' me! Dinner will be ready in a few minutes; could you go tell your brothers?"

He nodded and headed out to the living room. Soda had been listening to the radio, and Darry was relaxing on the couch after assisting his father during their expedition. Darrel was obsessed with getting the "perfect" tree, and it probably exasperated Darry to no end when they ended up having to go to several different places to get it. Darry was like me in his opinion of Christmas trees; as long as it wasn't scraggly or overly ugly, it would do. After all, we put so many ornaments on it you could barely see the tree anyway.

Soon enough, the three boys made their way into the kitchen, about the same time as Darrel finished mopping and setting the table. "Grab your bowls, boys, and make a line!" he commanded as he grabbed both his bowl and my own and claimed first place in the line. It was one of the many subtle gestures he made that really meant 'I love you' and it never failed to touch my heart and make me smile. I'd seen Darry do similar things with his girl and I was pleased to see that the trait had been passed from father to son. Sodapop was more extravagant in his gestures; he was too busy going a mile a minute that he wouldn't even think of something simple like that. Ponyboy, well, he hadn't discovered girls quite yet so I wasn't sure which direction he would take, but the girls had already started to notice his good looks and I had a feeling it wouldn't be long before I had my answer.

I filled each of their bowls in turn, and then made sure I turned off the stove and checked the cookies before I sat down in my usual spot. Darrel had grabbed the milk – it was a family tradition to drink milk with the beef stew – and was filling everyone's glasses as they settled into their seats.

Grabbing the platter of bread and handing it to Sodapop, who was sitting next to me, I told them, "Now, this is the bread that Mrs. Faulkner made. There's lots of it, so eat as much as you want."

"Yes Ma'am," Soda said with a gleam in his eye. That boy loved Ellie Faulkner's bread. Well, all of my boys did, but Soda in particular. I swear, half of our Faulkner bread supply went to him.

* * *

Darrel and Darry had struggled with bringing in the tree, as it was a fairly nice-sized one. It wasn't too big – I detested needless extravagance – but it fit just right next to the TV, though they had to be careful as they were trying to make it as straight as possible. I allowed them to start digging into the still-warm cookies as we all decorated the tree. Soda, Pony, and Darrel were the most enthusiastic, so Darry and I sat back a little and let them have their fun jumping all over the place and throwing tinsel at each other.

As I was taking out the next to last batch of cookies and preparing to put in the last, I heard Sodapop plunking on the piano keys. I knew it was him because Pony, Darry, and Darrel never plunked like that, only Soda. I grinned; Soda's plunking usually meant he was going to sit down and play some Christmas songs.

Well, in the loosest sense of Christmas songs, that is.

Both he and his father loved to sing their own words in place of the traditional lyrics. It was a family ritual that every Christmas Eve, they would play the piano and try to make up weird and wacky lines for the corresponding melody. I wondered what they would make up this year.

I heard him invite Darrel over to the piano, and I wandered into the dining room, wiping my hands on my towel again to get rid of the remaining traces of cookie dough. Ponyboy and Darry sat on the couch, and I took a seat at the dining room table so I was close enough to grab the last batch of cookies when they were done. Darrel and Sodapop both sat on the piano bench, debating which song they should crucify this year. Finally, they decided on one, and away they went …

_O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,_

_thy boughs are so ungainly._

_O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,_

_why oh why did we choose thee._

_Thy leaves are brown and short and limp,_

_thy top looks like a fat lady sat on it._

_O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,_

_I wish I never knew thee..._

I giggled into my towel as Ponyboy tittered on the couch. Darry just smiled and shook his head; he didn't find the new lyrics nearly as amusing as his father and brother singing it off-key and flamboyantly banging out the melody on the piano.

Soda and Darrel acknowledged the light applause they received when they finished before launching into another one.

_Deck the halls with beef and bologna,_

_Fa la la la la la la la la._

_'Tis the season to eat macaroni,_

_Fa la la la la la la la la._

_Corn and beans and chicken wings,_

_Fa la la la la la la la la._

_Roll the rolls on down the hall,_

_Fa la la la la la la la la._

_See the blazing biscuits before us,_

_Fa la la la la la la la la._

_Tuck your napkin and grab your hot sauce,_

_Fa la la la la la la la la._

_Eat and feast while food is cheap,_

_Fa la la la la la la la la._

_Finish up with chocolate treats,_

_Fa la la la la la la la la._

I'd had to retrieve the last batch of cookies before they burned, but I listened to them from the kitchen. They were finishing up the song as I stepped out of the kitchen, and Soda had that mischievous gleam in his eye. He flashed a smile at me and then turned to Darrel. "Hey, Dad, do you remember that song I told you about? You remember, the one Steve told me?"

Darrel started grinning like mad, nodded in the affirmative, and the boys started off on it.

_We three kings of Orient are,_

_Puffing on a rubber cigar._

_It was loaded,_

_and it exploded._

_BANG!_

At the 'bang' they slammed their fingers down on the keys and laughed hysterically. I chuckled and shook my head; it did sound like something Steve would share with Soda.

After they had laughed themselves out, Soda turned to look at me. "Mamma, why don't you play us something?"

I smiled at him. I couldn't refuse my son's request; I loved to play the piano.

Darrel and Soda vacated the bench for me, and I tapped my fingernails against the keys before I thought of the perfect song.

_It's the most wonderful time of the year._

_With the kids jingle belling,_

_and everyone telling you,_

_"Be of good cheer,"_

_It's the most wonderful time of the year._

The whole family joined in on the next verse; this was probably our favorite Christmas song, though Darrel and Sodapop insisted on singing as loudly and as off-key as possible.

_There'll be parties for hosting,_

_marshmallows for toasting and_

_caroling out in the snow._

_there'll be scary ghost stories and_

_tales of the glories of Christmases_

_long, long ago._

_It's the most wonderful time of the year._

_There'll be much mistletoeing_

_and hearts will be glowing,_

_when loved ones are near._

_It's the most wonderful time of the year._

We were all grinning and laughing at each other by the end of the song, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that it was snowing out. Though it was no doubt cold and freezing outside, we were all warm and cozy, and I couldn't ask for anything better than to have a happy family.

As we toasted the holidays with our glasses of milk, I mused to myself, _It really is the most wonderful time of the year._


End file.
